Brothers in Arms
by Michael-Harambay
Summary: Slingshot gets revenge, but he's not as glitched as everyone thinks he is. Silverbolt is unamused. But what else can a big brother do?
1. Chapter 1

Where _was_ that piece of slag? Slingshot was going to rip his wings off when he found him.

How could a fellow Autobot do that to another? And to a sparkling no less! Granted, he was technically a sparkling too, but he and the rest of the aerialbots saw the protectobots as their little brothers. He imagined someone taking advantage of Fireflight's fear of reprisal like that, and it only fueled his hate-fire more.

Was he going to kill Powerglide? Honestly he didn't know. He was definitely going to do _something_ that that miserable cod-sucking scum would remember.

::Slingshot, are you okay? What happened?:: Silverbolt demanded over the comm, able to feel the jet's raw fury all the way from his office. He'd never felt any of them so angry.

::Dude, what the frag? What's going _on_?:: That was Air Raid.

Skydive cut in, ::Don't do something stupid. Where are you?::

Like he'd tell them so Fireflight could give him a hug. As if that would make it better. If and when they caught up with him, he'd probably be in stasis cuffs.

Turning off his comm, the aerialbot also put up a mental block so they couldn't find him as easily. He had to find his target, and quickly - before Silverbolt suspected his intentions and alerted someone.

Powerglide was easy enough to find; he was in the sparsely populated rec room, refilling an enegon cube at the dispenser. Slingshot unsubspaced an energon blade, intent on his prey, but what little common sense he had left made him put what he wanted to _do_ with that blade off a few minutes. It wasn't easy; just looking at him made him see red. He pressed against him.

"Make a move and I'll _gut_ you."

"What are you _doing_?" Powerglide hissed, confused and mentally shitting bricks as he felt the tip of a knife dig into his back-strut. What the- what had he done to the aerialnuts? Recently?

"Outside. We're gonna have a little talk. _Now_."

"Okay okay, stop poking," Powerglide grumbled, surrendering and going with him without so much as a call for help. He didn't want to end up in Ratchet's medbay with a knife embedded in his back, and figured he could talk himself out of whatever this was with some of that sweet highgrade he stole from Ironhide, for which the Twins were conveniently blamed.

He should have opted for the knife; unfortunately, the red mech had no way of knowing what Slingshot was capable of, and until that night, neither did Slingshot.

...

::He's not in our quarters. ::

::The target range is empty!::

::Rec room's clear!::

::I can't find him _anywhere_. ::

Silverbolt abruptly stopped jogging down the hall, having been on the way to the rec room himself. Scrap, but he had a bad feeling about this - Slingshot had felt downright murderous.

::Stay spread out, I'm getting Red Alert. We'll find him.:: He commed. If anyone could tell them where Slingshot was, it was the paranoid Security Director. He turned around and jogged back the way he came, passing mechs oblivious to his dilemma. Soon enough he was banging on the security room door.

After a few deliberate seconds it slid aside. Red Alert quirked an optic ridge, obviously unamused. "Good evening, Silverbolt."

"Yeah, hi…" Silverbolt started unprofessionally, tilting his head to see past him incase Slingshot was magically inside. When the mech pointedly frowned at his action, he realized what he was doing and said:

"We can't find Slingshot, and I'm worried he might hurt someone."

Red Alert's optics widened. "What? Why?"

"I don't know, but he felt, I mean, I've never felt him this angry. Please, I _have_ to find him."

"If this is a prank..." Red Alert warned, stepping back so he could enter; Slingshot and Sideswipe were often in cahoots. The aerial Commander trailed him to one of the wall mounted monitors and politely didn't look as 'Red put in the password, though doubtless it would be changed as soon as he left. Red Alert remained motionless as he fished through data at lightspeed. Silverbolt was left to impatiently tap a ped in the silence.

"Uh oh."

The tapping stopped. "What do you mean uh-oh?"

Red Alert eyed him and made it so that the monitor display slowed down. It was a feed of the rec-room, and not too long ago given the people in the background. Slingshot was talking to Powerglide, standing oddly close.

"What's he doing?" Silverbolt asked, confused. Uh-oh?

Red Alert switched the camera feed to a different angle, this one showing a small object between them and the reason for their postures - a knife.

Oh.

" _Frag_!" Silverbolt hissed. What was going on? Then the video switched to another as Red Alert sifted through them, this one a view from outside the entrance to the Ark. They watched as Slingshot snarled something to Powerglide before the glider relented and transformed, the jet right behind him. They took off into the night and Red Alert swore.

"Frag." He agreed.

* * *

Slingshot cracked his knuckles, wincing with the motion. He'd never hit someone that hard. Absently, his mouth curled into a sneer; he hoped this was only a _100th_ of what Powerglide felt. Was feeling. That is if he could still feel anything at all.

"Slingshot!"

Scrap, Slingshot thought. Here comes the calvary. Every party had its party poopers, which was too bad; Slingshot was having a ball. He didn't bother turning around, prepared for this. " _What_?"

A strong servo suddenly yanked him around. Silverbolt's grip was so tight it dented armor. "What have you _done_!?"

Slingshot let his wings twitch, just a little too much. He didn't bother responding.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?! _DO YOU?!_ " Silverbolt roared, shaking him. " _ANSWER_ ME!"

"He's not dead." Slingshot said quietly, though Powerglide was putting on a better act than him. He hadn't moved in a while.

"No thanks to _you_." Silverbolt practically hissed.

It hurt, that Silverbolt thought he'd be so careless as to actually kill Powerglide. Hello, they were still at war with a bunch of blood thirsty Decepticons! You couldn't just go around killing people and doing them a favor, even when those people deserved it. Give him some credit! But Slingshot let static seep into his voice box, optics dimmed and unfocused.

"What're you _sayin_ g?" He slurred back with equal venom.

Silverbolt hadn't released his death grip, but now he was looking at him funny. "You tried to _kill_ him!" He snarled, all up in his face.

 _Ugh, my poor audios_ , Slingshot thought. Speaking of that, He let electricity dance around them a bit, the way he'd seen it happen on the old security vids. Back when Red Alert had his own little attack. "If I wanted that 'Con dead he _would_ be."

"Powerglide's not a 'Con you dolt!" Silverbolt snapped. But his furious optics lingered on the sparks the way Slingshot had hoped.

Time for the final act.

"YES HE IS!" Slingshot suddenly shouted, startling Silverbolt since he'd been talking quietly up until now. With his audios sparking like a motherfragger, he shook and hollered like a mech possessed. "I KNEW YOU WOULDN'T CARE! WHY CAN'T ANYONE SEE IT! HE'S A 'CON! HE'S A DIRTY 'CON!"

Silverbolt was having trouble holding him, and Slingshot knew he must look positively demonic to the shuttle, perhaps even...berserk.

"I do believe you. Calm down. I don't think you're in your right processor right now." Silverbolt tried to calm him, though it was obvious his leader was trying not to grin while they struggled. And that made Slingshot want to smile too.

He was buying it. He was really buying it.

In the distance, ambulance sirens wailed. No doubt Ratchet was coming, the others just behind. And following them, whatever repercussions the future held.

But despite that, Slingshot wasn't afraid. He let another few sparks flit around his audios to distract his leader from the fact that he _wasn't_ , in fact, crazy. The way he saw it, he'd done his duty as an Autobot today.

* * *

"Why are we all the way up here?" Streetwise asked, looking down at the rocks far below in distaste.

"I needed some fresh air." Slingshot said. He was sitting right on the cliff's edge so the wind could wash over him. He held out his wings in delight. That hit the spot.

"There's air down there."

Slingshot kicked his legs like he wasn't looming over a hundred foot precipice. "Fresher air."

"But we're outside, isn't it all the same air?"

"Fine. Windier." Slingshot conceded. "And this way nobody can hear us."

"About that…." Streetwise sounded uncomfortable. "Um, how much did you hear?"

Slingshot sighed, swinging his legs back to solid ground so he could scoot around and face the mustang, who leaned against a tree further back. No way he was going near the edge - _he must think I'm suicidal_ , the aerialbot thought with a snort.

"All of it. But the others don't know, so don't go running. I won't tell."

A sparkbeat. "You-...you _won't_?"

"No."

Streetwise stared. He was shaking. And gawking. Shgawking. "But but but-you know what I did!"

The words echoed against the rocks. A sentence.

"I do. But you're the one that has to live with it." Slingshot offered, then frowned. Where had _that_ come from? He needed to stop hanging around Silverbolt so much.

"And you won't tell."

"Not if you don't want me to. What _do_ you want?" Slingshot asked, another gust of wind bathing his frame. Streetwise didn't answer for a minute.

"For things to go back the way they were. For Power-...," his voice hitched, "for _him_...to leave me alone." He admitted. Maybe having someone to talk to wouldn't be so bad. He knew deep down he could never tell his brothers, but he already felt better that Slingshot - someone he looked up to, like the rest of the aerialbots - wasn't screaming at him or denouncing him as an Autobot.

Said aerialbot scowled, his voice suddenly dark. "Don't worry. He will _never_ bother you again."

" _What_?!"

"Yup. Probably wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole if Prime ordered it. You don't have to- _oof_!"

Streetwise had glomped him in a jubilant hug. "Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

Awkwardly - he wasn't really one for all that mushy stuff, that was more 'Flight's style - Slingshot hugged him back, feeling strangely warm at the sincere gratitude. " _Uh, Cliff_." He choked out.

"Oh, sorry." Streetwise quickly crawled back so he wouldn't, you know, fall to his death. "What did you _tell_ him?"

"Just what I'd make Superion do if he goes crying to Prime. Among, uh, other things."

The Protectobots, on a mission, had pretty much missed the entire episode. No doubt the Ark's notorious rumor mill had filled them in on those other specifics. But he knew Streetwise would figure the truth, that he hadn't _actually_ glitched.

Streetwise's face fell, as if reading his mind. "I...sorry. Now everybody thinks you're glitched."

"Don't be. They always called me that anyway, and it was worth it." Slingshot said, flicking a wing dismissively.

That cheered him up. A little. "Was he scared?"

Slingshot grinned and punched him on the arm. "Hahaha, yeah, freakin' _pissed_ himself!" he laughed, making Streetwise giggle. And just for a moment, things went back to the way they were.

* * *

 **You can all guess what Powerglide did. But _Streetwise_? You'll have to find out.**

 **I love getting feedback. Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Streetwise stared at the dirt road before him, engine humming quietly. Beside him Smokescreen revved his engine while Tracks leaned against a boulder, bored.

Ugh, how had he gotten roped into this? Oh yeah, Smokescreen had challenged him in the rec room, and he hadn't wanted to say no. Not in front of Blades.

"Wait for us!" Somebody called, and Spike and Carly jogged up to them.

"Hey Spike. Carly. We're about to race. You guys want in?" Smokescreen invited, popping open his driver's side door.

"Sweet! Dibs!" Carly laughed, hopping in before Spike could. Spike rolled his eyes and went over to Streetwise.

"No." Streetwise snapped when the organic touched him. He locked himself with an audible _clickclick_.

"Aww, don't be such a bad sport." Smokescreen called. Carly leaned out the datson's window and joked, "I know he's a horrible driver, but it's not like _he's_ the one driving."

"Says the girl!" Spike retorted. The boy rapped on Streetwise's window, saying, "Please?", while Carly gasped, "Oh, it is _on_."

"What are you, Sunstreaker?" Tracks mocked.

"Like _you're_ one to talk." Streetwise snarled in true Sunstreaker-like fashion.

"Just let the kid in already so we can start." Smokescreen sighed, exasperated. Younglings.

Um, Streetwise wasn't comfortable with this. He noticed Groove ambling up to Blades in the background, the mellow mech coming to spectate. Damnit. He wordlessly opened his door.

"Thanks." Spike said, getting in. Streetwise quickly wrapped a seatbelt around him, but let up a little when the boy pointed out, "Uh, Streetwise, I can't breath…"

He still kept it tight.

"Okay! On your mark, get ready...GO!" Smokescreen yelled, and they took off.

"Come on Streetwise, they're _creaming_ us!" Spike pressed down on the gas though of course the action was useless. Streetwise mentally flinched.

"I can see that."

"Can't you go any faster?" Spike asked, gripping the steering wheel and imagining he was a Nascar driver.

"I _am_ going fast."

"You're going 60."

"...Oh."

Would you look at that, the human was right. Streetwise growled and shot forward, beginning to gain on the Praxian. The race was a loop around the Ark, and Smokescreen's shiny aft disappeared around the bend ahead of them like it was on fire.

Oh no you don't. Faster, he had to go faster - he could do this, he was almost catching up….

…." _Last one to the Ark takes my monitor duty!"_

"Gah!" Streetwise yelped, slamming on his breaks. Good thing he had tightened that seat belt. A sizable cloud of dust kicked up as they spun to a halt.

"Woah! What happened?" Spike groaned, rubbing his neck. Can somebody say whiplash?

Streetwise idled, confused as well. Why had he stopped? He felt the human pat his seat.

"Streetwise? You okay?"

"...Yeah."

"Why did we stop?"

"Because I...I think you should get out." Was all he said, the feeling of the warm body in his seat making him more uncomfortable by the second. He itched to throw him out.

"What? Why?"

"Just _get out_!" Streetwise shouted, throwing open the door.

"Ok-kay." Spike relented.

Streetwise transformed when he was out. "I'm goin' back inside."

And he did, ignoring Spike's cries for him to wait up. Hey, the kid had two legs that weren't broken. He didn't look back, just kept walking until he got to the washracks, because he felt, well, _dirty_. He was certainly caked in enough mud and dust from his spectacular stop to justify it.

He turned on a shower and let out a little whine when cold solvent splashed his plating. Why had he stopped? What was _wrong_ with him? Sideswipe's singsong taunt drifted through his mind again:

" _Last one to the Ark takes my monitor duty!"_

He scrubbed his hood zealously to the tune, to the point that he started rubbing off some of his paint without even realizing it. Stupid Sideswipe. Stupid racing. Eventually he turned the shower off and moved over to where the towels were stored. Cybertronians normal didn't use towels when they bathed (according to Wheeljack); the transformer sized linens were a gift from the humans. He grouchily flapped one out and dried off.

"Hey."

Streetwise froze, broken out of his thoughts. He hadn't even heard Smokescreen come in.

"Hey." He grunted.

"What'd your grill ever do to you?" The Praxian eased, and Streetwise looked down. He'd cleaned some of the paint right off.

"Uh…."

"You okay? Spike said you were mad at him."

"I'm not." The mustang scowled, then clarified, "Mad. I'm not mad. Tell him I'm sorry."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Nope." Streetwise said curtly, brushing past him. And certainly not to _him_. He marched all the way to his quarters, not even bothering to cut the bay's lights on before flopping down on his berth. He was just tired, you know? In fact, taking a nap sounded wonderful.

Unfortunately, sleep was as elusive as ever.

* * *

Ratchet had had to sedate him that night. It sucked, punching his creator in the face. But Slingshot knew it would seal the deal; nobody in their right mind would do _that_. Then he'd woken up in stasis cuffs in the brig with Ironhide standing over him and Silverbolt telling him everything was going to be okay and he knew he'd won.

That part also sucked. He just knew Silverbolt was secretly relieved; but Fireflight and Air Raid were really upset. They demanded Ratchet _fix_ him, but of course the medic couldn't do anything when nothing was wrong in the first place.

Currently, the red and white aerialbot languished on the couch. It was the middle the day, and he was officially bored.

With how clingy his brothers were, he wondered if they thought he might glitch every time they left their quarters for breakfast or a patrol, and he guessed that was getting annoying. But all in all he was fine with how things turned out. Yeah house arrest sucked, but it was better than the alternative.

Better than letting Powerglide get away with it.

::Slingshot…. ::

Think of the devil. Slingshot sat up, looking beyond the couch. Skydive and Fireflight seemed pretty caught up in their game of Ranker. He sunk back down into his earlier relaxed position.

::Kid? You okay?::

In the background Skydive looked up, but didn't say anything.

::I...might have done something stupid.::

::I can't possibly be rubbing off on you already.:: Slingshot joked, though he couldn't help but wonder if the kid had up and confessed. That was certainly his right, but if so all _three_ of them were going down. But Streetwise said,

::There was a race. Smokescreen made me do it - he's been acting weird lately - and then Spike and Carly showed up, and I guess, I mean, I k-kind of...freaked out. Slingshot, what if he _knows_?::

::Kid, I guarantee you whatever Smokescreen knows, Prime knows, and since Prime hasn't said anything, he doesn't know. Compute?::

:: ...I guess so. ::

Streetwise didn't sound very convinced, and the flyer frowned. That protectobot was too paranoid for his own good.

::Hang in there.:: Slingshot said. ::No one knows. And no one's _gonna_ know. I made sure of that.::

:: ...Thanks.::

::Don't mention it. Now do us both a favor and go do some doughnuts, maybe I can absorb the feeling of fresh air through sheer osmosis.::

He heard Streetwise's laughter on the other end and his spark did a little flip flop. Just like that, he wasn't bored anymore. Not even if he watched paint dry for the rest of the day.

However, he had no desire to do such a thing. "You guys wanna watch a movie?" Slingshot called, figuring he'd been quiet long enough.

"Sure." Fireflight said, and the next thing he knew the (also) red and white aerialbot was sitting next to him. He glanced up at Skydive. "Skydive?"

"I'm going for a flight." Skydive said stiffly, before doing just that. Slingshot watched him go, perplexed.

"He's just mad 'cause I won." Fireflight told him like he was letting him in on a big secret.

"Really? Mech, he's like unbeatable in Ranker." Slingshot said disbelievingly. "He totally let you win."

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

" _Nuh-uh!"_

"Just pick a movie," Slingshot ceded, giving up though normally he wouldn't, especially when Silverbolt was within earshot (because he knew it annoyed the crap out of him). He forgot about Skydive by the time the opening credits to Top Gun scrolled down the screen.

* * *

 **Of course the aerialbots watch Top Gun. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**


End file.
